


Passion's a Prison

by Verabird



Category: The Book of Mormon, The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: M/M, Multi, it's all pretty minor stuff though just be cautious, tw for guns - suicide - and sexual assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:45:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2906312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verabird/pseuds/Verabird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin Price and Connor McKinley are enjoying their wedding night together. It had been Connor’s idea to have the wedding and the reception on the boat. It was important to him for reasons Kevin had tried to understand. Something about the sea being a place which had never had laws over who could love and who couldn’t.</p><p>Connor's old friend Steve is there too. It's not really Steve's fault that he ends up leaning over the railings with Kevin. It's not his fault that Kevin 'accidentally' trips and falls in. Of course it's not his fault. But, it does leave rather a nice opening for him to conveniently slide into.</p><p>Except Connor's already made his choice, and Kevin's not dead...yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passion's a Prison

**Author's Note:**

> Steve is cruel, but he's fiercely loyal, and capable of great compassion. I just wanted you to know.

The air whipped through Connor’s hair landing in tearaway strands across his face. He tried to brush them away but they kept being flung back into his eyes. Kevin took Connor’s face in both hands smoothing his cheeks with his thumbs. 

The wind continued to brush around and between them until Kevin closed the gap feeling Connor’s lips on his.

Connor’s eyes glanced over Kevin, dressed immaculately in a tux feeling inadequate in his own. 

"You look stunning." Kevin reassured him taking his hand and leading him across the deck towards the dining room.

"You too." Connor murmured but it was lost and carried away on the breeze which was picking up around them. A quick glance over the edge made his stomach lurch. It was a long way down for a start and the waves had risen in height over the past few hours. 

Kevin squeezed his hand and gently pulled him indoors. The sound of the rising storm was sucked away like a vacuum and replaced by the tinkling of china and a grand piano.

It had been Connor’s idea to have the wedding and the reception on the boat. It was important to him for reasons Kevin had tried to understand. Something about the sea being a place which had never had laws over who could love and who couldn’t.

Throughout the evening the pair flitted between conversations, old friends and relatives. They shared memories of each other, Uganda, their hopes for the future. Connor had never been happier before in his life and he was ready to forgive Kevin for the one too many glasses of wine he’d had. 

"I don’t know why you had to bring him." 

"He’s my friend." Connor smiled at Kevin.

"I don’t like him."

Connor leaned in quickly for a kiss preventing Kevin from complaining about Steve anymore. Not today, not tonight, not ever. As they broke apart Kevin turned his eyes to the door to the deck and scowled.

"Excuse me." He said planting several further kisses on Connor’s forehead.

The air was bristling, the storm had now risen to a peak. The contrast of cold between inside and out was stark. Kevin headed over to the railings where Steve was leaning on the edge gazing glass eyed at the rough surface of the water.

"Evening."

Steve nodded swaying with the rhythm of the ship. He’d obviously been drinking too. 

"Congratulations." Steve said blankly staring straight down.

"Thanks." Kevin grinned stumbling a little as the ship suddenly lurched forward. 

"Do you love him?"

"Well yeah." Kevin stuttered a bit stumped by the unusual question.

"Me too."

"Ah well." Kevin stood next to Steve dangling his limbs over the railings too. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wished Connor hadn’t invited Steve in the first place, he had the habit of turning any situation uncomfortable. 

Steve looked Kevin up and down taking in his slightly drunken form reflecting his own as a single thought entered his mind. A reasonable man would never have dreamed of it. But a heartbroken, lonely, drunk would consider it.

"Well the best man won." He extended a hand and Kevin took it uncertainly. His eyes widened as his own hand was gripped too hard and it all happened in a split second.

Meanwhile, Connor was laughing loudly at a joke Arnold had just told, smiling fondly at the memory that had emerged from the conversation. The warmth from the candelabras blotted out the storm outside. The sudden bang of the door opening startled him.

"Steve?" He exclaimed, concerned at the man’s wild expression.

"Connor! Something’s happened!"

"What? What is it?"

The room had turned silent, all eyes turned to the pair of them.

"I couldn’t do anything, it all happened so quickly," He spluttered moving closer to Connor, "It was an accident."

"What?!"

"It’s Kevin."

"Oh my God, what happened? Tell me Steve?"

"He’s…he…he went over the edge."

***

The first thing Kevin did after he’d heaved himself up the beach and spluttered out the water he’d swallowed, was check that his wedding ring was still there. His heart calmed as he felt it firmly in place at the base of his finger.

He curled over from his position on his hands and knees and allowed his eyes to close. Breathing heavily in exhaustion, the waves lapping over his feet and ankles, he drifted into sleep.

***

The ship was in pandemonium, people running everywhere concentrated in the small indoor spaces. Guests shouted over each other as radio signals went across the waters to the coast guard, international air rescue, surrounding ships. 

It was all a whirlwind around one man in stillness. Connor stared at a bouquet of flowers in front of him without really seeing it. 

"Connor I’m-"

"Don’t talk to me."

"There was nothing I could do I-"

"Go away."

Steve sighed and pulled up the chair next to Connor. He placed a hand on his shoulder only to have it shoved off. Connor wordlessly pushed his chair back and walked out the room.

His hands gripped the freezing cold bars as he stared out into the black expanse of ocean. His eyes scanned for some sign of movement, knowing it was futile. 

Suddenly a pair of arms went round his waist and pulled him backwards. He landed on top of someone and the pair of them went skidding across the deck. 

"What the-?" Connor staggered to his feet rubbing his arms where they’d scraped along the wood.

"Sorry." A breathless Arnold replied.

"What are you doing?"

"I just didn’t want you to jump."

"Why would I jump?"

Arnold stared at the floor for a while then got up to join Connor on his level.

"I just thought…if it was Naba…"

"Well it’s not her is it. It’s Kevin. My Kevin and now he’s gone. Just leave me alone."

Arnold swallowed and nodded, walking back towards the light of indoors. He turned back to see Connor already moving back over to the railings. He murmured under his breath, the words carried away by the wind.

"He’s mine too. He’s my best friend."

Connor wished he’d thought to put a jacket on before he came out, but he hadn’t been expecting to spend so much time outside on his wedding night.

"Are you ok?"

"I told you to leave me alone." Connor didn’t need to even look to know Steve was by his shoulder. He didn’t even feel the need to raise his voice.

"Look." Connor tensed as he felt Steve’s hand land on his shoulder and his breath suddenly close to his ear, "This could be a really good opportunity for us."

Connor shrugged him off not fully processing what Steve had just said. Steve’s hand moved back to his shoulder again and he didn’t bother to move it.

"This could be our chance."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean you and me, just us, no Kevin. Now he’s out the way."

"What did you just say?"

"You should think about it."

Connor’s eyes widened at Steve’s intense expression, his voice now a whisper that scared him. He was unprepared for when Steve leaned in towards him. 

Suddenly Steve was clutching his smarting cheek and Connor was staring at him hand raised.

"What the fuck was that?"

"I’m sorry I…you scared me." Connor stuttered. He looked down at his hand unaware that Steve had closed in on him. He didn’t have time to react as Steve’s hands gripped his elbows and he was unable to move.

"Just think about it ok?" Steve hissed right in his ear, "Or you might end up the same way."

Connor's mouth gaped open like it was him who'd just been slapped. Steve's green eyes were burning up, full of anger and alcohol. The wind was picking up, the darkness of nightfall enveloping the pair of them as Connor involuntarily shivered.

“Are you threatening me?” He wished his voice didn't shake so much.

“Perhaps.”

“It was a yes or no question, Steve.” There was ice in his voice as cold as the ocean below.

“Yes.”

“So you are threatening me?”

“Why my dear Connor, we seem to be going round in circles.”

Neatly pressed tux, shiny cufflinks, blond hair swept across that dark face; he sounded and looked the very picture of a Bond villain. The only thing that took away from the suave appearance was the smell of whiskey on his breath. That and his recent confession to murder.

“What do you want?”

“Maybe we could talk in private. My room.” It wasn't an invitation; it was a demand.

Strong fists still tangled up round his elbows and the jaws of the waves ready to swallow him up at Steve's whim, Connor thought that stepping away from the edge sounded like a good idea.

A hand clasped tight around his elbow. To the outside eye they were just two friends, one chaperoning the other. It was almost charming. Connor didn't even bother smiling at the guests they passed on their way to Steve's cabin. It wasn't like a boat with over a hundred of his friends and family couldn't overpower one man, it's just, a small part of him didn't want them to. He'd never had a dream quite this vivid, but he wasn't ready to rule out that possibility. Or that Steve hadn't done anything. It really had been an accident and Steve was trying to protect him from something, it was all just in a grand scheme.

Steve opened the door and gestured for Connor to go in first. Always the gentlemen. He followed in after turning the key in the lock and dropping it into his jacket pocket. He didn't look at Connor as he headed to a small table in the corner, uncapping a crystal decanter and pouring himself a measure of whiskey.

Connor cast his eyes to the floor, disgusted. He had no problems with his friends drinking even if he never did, it was all those years Steve had pretended to take recovery seriously, lied to him to cover the hip flasks hidden in draws and the trips to the bar at midnight.

“Haven't you had enough?” He asked bitterly.

“Want one?” Steve waved the bottle of amber coloured liquid. Connor shook his head, teeth clenching. Steve shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He leaned back against the wall, head tilting lazily to one side.

“Well well well, it's been a while since we've been alone in a room together.”

“I don't miss it,” Connor spat out.

“You're allowed to sit.” Steve gestured to the bed, completely unfazed.

“I'd prefer to stand.”

“You really are the most stubborn thing. I used to find it endearing, now I'm not so sure.”

“I'm not here for your amusement. Now, get to the point, I don't want to spend a minute more than I have to in here.”

Steve grinned, his eyes cold. “All in good time.” His hand moved back to the bottle, as it always did, and he topped up his glass.

“What do you want?”

“You.”

Connor was caught off guard at how readily the word had come. He felt his cheeks flush, a redness that spread down his neck.

“I'm taken,” He muttered quietly.

“Is that so? By whom?”

“Kevin Price.” At least he could say that name with some semblance of confidence.

“Oh really? Last time I checked he was dead. I waved at his body as he floated by.”

Connor was surprised at his own strength and speed as he launched himself off the bed. His hands went straight for Steve's throat, fingers closing in a thoughtless throttle. The force pushed them against the wall and Steve's head made a painful crack as it connected with plaster. His eyes widened, but Connor wasn't as strong as him, and once he'd gained his composure it was easy.

A sharp punch to the stomach caused Connor to release his grip giving Steve the chance he needed to grab him by the shoulders and spin him round. Smashing him against the wall he leaned in close, taking steep shallow breaths, gazing in Connor in wonder.

“Were you going to kill me? Connor McKinley. My Connor McKinley. I didn't think you had it in you.” He chuckled as Connor turned his head as much as possible so that they weren't face to face. “I must say, I'm very impressed. Where did you learn that? Surely not from lover-boy.”

“S-sorry.” Connor spluttered instinctively, instantly regretting it.

Steve laughed.

“An apology! It's my lucky day! I should murder your boyfriend every day if this is my reward.

“Husband.” Connor bit his lip, body going limp in Steve's grip, resigned to losing this battle of wits. “Was he-...I mean-...When he went over...was he...?”

“Dead? No. But he should be by now. Be honest with yourself.”

Connor turned his head back to face Steve. He should have known really. All those years with Steve watching him and turned away when he looked. It wasn't like gazing at someone you loved, or even looking longingly at someone you wanted. It was the look you gave to something, not someone. Steve had been looking at Connor like a possession, like you look at a car or a watch. Steve just considered him to be something shiny.

Kevin was simply a thief to him. And what do you do when someone steals from you? What do you do if you're Steve Blade? You throw him over a boat. Simple.

“I don't owe you anything.”

“No,” Steve's voice was so soft and he was so close. Connor hated this, he always had, it was like thrusting your hand into a snake's open mouth. “But, I think I owe you something.”

Steve's lips were hot and impatient. Connor was caught by surprise, unable to wrestle free as those hands tightened round his arms. Steve was persistent, and Connor didn't have the willpower required to keep his own lips sealed. It was just for a moment, a split second, barely worth noticing, but he let himself go slack. Allowed Steve to do what he was doing, returned some of it. Only for a split second.

Steve pulled back instantly, lips curling into a smile. His eyes were sparkling. “You always were a tease.”

Connor swallowed, touching his cheek with a palm, feeling the heat of the blush. Steve's hand slipped into his pocket and he withdrew the key. He sauntered over to the door and slid it into the lock, motioning for Connor to leave. Connor was hesitant. This must be a trick. Steve had called in backup from all his James Bond friends and MI5 and he was about to be apprehended and made part of a drug ring or....something.

“I can leave?”

“You can never leave Connor, but you may leave this room.”

“Why?”

“Oh, don't be so suspicious.” Steve clicked his tongue. “I got what I needed. You may leave, because now I know.”

“Know what?”

“That you'll come back.”

  


***

  


Kevin's eyes fluttered open. An act he immediately regretted as salt water sloshed over his lashes. He blinked away the sting, coughing as he strained to pull himself further up the beach. Steve had tried to kill him. He was lucky. That was all he knew.

The next thing he knew was that strong rough hands were on his wrists, pulling him up the sand. His tried to open his eyes again, but the sun was too bright and he felt to weak to protest. His world blacked again, but he could still feel the grit of the sand and hear the grunts of the person dragging him so he wasn't unconscious. Then he felt scratchy material underneath him, and then a blanket laid on top of him. Then he blacked out again.

  


***

  


He could hear them all yelling his name. The sound of footfalls above his head as people frantically searched. He knew he should go to them. Prove that he hadn't followed his husband overboard, but right now the cold metal of a boiler pipe against his back was all he wanted to feel. Everything else could be numb for all he cared.

He couldn't spit out the taste of shame in his mouth because Steve was right. He would come back. He always did.

What was that Steve had said? You can never leave.

It was true. He'd tried before. Steve was his friend, he had been ever since he'd stamped on some other boy's finger for calling him gay. Connor genuinely thought he loved him at one point, or at the very least cared for him. Where was the love in bruises and a broken finger? It was such a simple gesture, one that had got them in more trouble than the insult was worse. From then on Connor had always been at Steve's heels. Steve was bigger and stronger and cleverer and could use words with many syllables without sounding pretentious and Connor loved him.

Connor looked down the corridor, back to Steve's room where Steve was now waiting. For him. Was he supposed to just waltz in and kneel at Steve's feet and say 'I'm yours'? Steve was always very theatrical.

“There you are! We thought...well...it doesn't matter.”

“I'm still alive Arnold. Yay.” He made a non-commited gesture and put his head back against the pipe. The cold was soothing.

“They've sent lost at sea reports to all the nearby boats and the coast guard is out searching, please don't give up hope.”

“You know something Arnold,” Connor said cryptically. “If you always expect the worst then you can never be disappointed. Only pleasantly surprised.”

“He's not dead. I'm not going to believe it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Connor was beginning to think that the drink Steve offered him was a good idea. He was in half a mind to just go back to that room, even if it was a bit early to be crawling back already. Then he'd at least have someone to hold him. Arnold had slid down the wall and was now sitting next to him. Connor was aware of his large and warm presence and found his head drifting down to rest on one of those soft inviting shoulders.

They were upon him before he could stifle them. Sobs, raw and racking through his body. The first tears of the evening. He hadn't cried walking down the aisle, he hadn't cried when he'd seen the front row empty of his parents, he hadn't cried when Kevin had said 'I do' or slipped the ring on his finger, and he hadn't cried when Kevin had kissed him.

The tears were uncontrollable, and for once he was grateful for Arnold's clumsy hands tentatively wrapping round him. This was better than Steve.

  


***

  


“Heavenly Father.....to you....bless....that he may....pray that....guide....into your arms....”

It was like tuning in and out of an old radio. Like all those days curled up on the floor of the mission hut in Uganda while Elder McKinley fiddled with the broken radio they'd found at the market, trying to find something other than the weather forecast. Eventually their pious, incredibly religious, and flamboyantly homosexual district leader would discover some sermon being recited on a church station. It was almost like a date.

“In the name of your son Jesus Christ, Amen.”

That was a whole sentence. He'd managed to hear the whole sentence. “Elder M-M-Mmmm...” His voice was harsh and croaky, scraped dry with sea water. The pain told him he was still alive and even though what he heard was a prayer, he was still a being of the mundane world.

The voices around his head stopped. Then they all began to talk at once, overlapping whispers in a hushed urgency.

“He's awake!”

“He said your name?”

“Kevin?”

He groaned some more, this time in recognition. That was his name. They knew his name. Was he back on the ship then? Had he washed up on the shores of Salt Lake and been dragged to his parent's house? Maybe he was dead after all and his afterlife was having to repeat his mission for all eternity.

He felt something cold against his lips and tried his best to swallow the water being poured into his mouth. It was something. He opened his eyes with great effort and looked up at his rescuers. Exactly six pairs of eyes were staring down at him. Six eyes attached to pale white faces with neat hair cuts and mission regulation ties, shirts, and pants. And name tags. They all had name tags.

Kevin didn't need the full clear use of his tired eyes to know that every one would read 'Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints'. So he was dead and this was heaven. He was back in Uganda. He entertained the idea that maybe he was in a coma, but then he remembered the bright light that had blinded him earlier. That must have been death and here he was in Heaven.

Well Saint Peter could bloody well hurry up and escort him to the Celestial Kingdom because he'd rather be damned than spend eternity in this closet of heat and hell.

“Elder McKinley...” Two words, barely breathed, but loud enough. The faces above him looked at each other in confusion.

“Maybe he means Elder Moore?”

“Is there a McKinley in third ward?”

“No, there's a McMillan though.”

“Yeah, I know Elder McMillan, nice guy.”  
Kevin raised a hand to his head and rubbed his eyes. The faces were coming into clearer focus, and those faces were so confusing. If this really was Heaven then everything had come out distorted. He'd have to settle for theory number two: coma.

It could have been an hour, maybe five minutes, but his head was finally clearing and after a while he attempted to sit up. Those faces were just staring at him. They were so young, almost terrified.

“Where am I?”

“Second ward.”

Kevin stared at the speaker. “Excuse me?”

“Second ward of the Barbados mission.”

“Of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints,” Chimed in another of the Elders.

“Barbados?”

Curse Connor for choosing the Bahamas as a location wedding spot. Getting married on a boat? The politics seemed right, and Connor always was the activist one, but this was all so surreal.

“So you're...Mormons...?”

“Yes, sir.” Six bright white smiles shone down upon him. “I'm Elder Johnson by the way, District Leader.”

Kevin couldn't help himself. He started laughing. It hurt his throat and his stomach, but he laughed anyway.

The smiles fell.

“I think you swallowed a lot of salt water.”

“Someone is dying and he still finds time to laugh at us.”

“Maybe he's one of those...atheists.”

The blabbering continued. Paranoid whispers as the young men stared down at Kevin.

“I'm not an atheist,” Kevin managed to say as his laughter softened. “I'm, well, I was, a Mormon.”

“So you know Elder McMillan?”

Kevin wondered if he was this stupid when he was a nineteen year old missionary. He concluded that yes, he most definitely was.

“No, I don't. I just thought. I thought I'd died and this was Heaven.” It sounded much sillier out loud than it had in his head.

The boys knodded solemnly.

“They always say that your mission is the best time of your life,” Elder Johnson said with such utter conviction. It was fascinating really, Kevin thought, this lifestyle was a perfect case study. He would have been a psychiatrists field day on his mission.

“So Kevin, how did you come to be washed up while we were proselytizing?”

“How do you know my name?”  
“It's on your wedding ring.”

Kevin paused for a moment, mouth open ready to speak. He was supposed to have Connor's name on his ring, and Connor had Kevin on his. They must have put on the wrong rings back during the ceremony. It was almost amusing.

“Funny to have your own name on your wedding ring.”

“Why are you so sure it's mine?”

“Kevin would be an interesting name for a woman!” The missionaries laughed, completely oblivious.

“What's her name then?” There was a sudden change in atmosphere. He noticed them all become very interested in them, a few of their eyes a little glazed over. So they had girlfriends waiting back home. He didn't have the heart to tell them they'd probably all moved on. Marriage was a very exciting concept to the average Mormon child. That's what they were. Children.

The word came out before he could stop it. “Nabulungi.” It was better to lie. The waves had swept him back in the closet, but it was only temporary. He just needed to get a message to the boat, sort out this mess, have Steve arrested. Then they'd be on the plane to Orlando for the honeymoon before you could say 'til death do us part'.

“Is that French?”

“Ugandan.”

“What's it mean?”

“Princess.”

“Nice.” There was a chorus of nodding approval.

“Allow me to introduce you to the team.” Elder Johnson pointed at each member of his group. “This is Elder Curt, he's my companion. Then there's Elder Davies, Elder Moore, Elder Moangare and Elder Nenadovitch.”

Kevin murmured something at each of them, but he didn't care.

“I fell off a boat, well, I was pushed. I need to get a signal to them.”

“We have a radio,” Elder Johnson said eagerly.

“One that works?”

“Of course.”

“Impressive.” Kevin whistled between his teeth. Their president had been very cheap. “It was the SS Valiant, I don't know which way I drifted, but it should be close. I just need to tell my-...friend that I'm ok.”

“That should be fine, when we send off our reports at the end of the week we can-”

“The end of the week!”

“Uh...yes, on preparation day.”  
“Are you serious?”

“We're only allowed to use the radio on preparation day.”

Ah yes, those rules, he remembered them fondly. The other missionaries were nodding their agreement at the idea of something so ridiculous.

“I. Was. Pushed. Off. A. Boat.”

Silence.

“Pushed. Off a boat! Attempted murder! But oh no, we can't use the radio except on preparation day, silly me for thinking nearly dying was an emergency.”  
“Sorry,” Elder Johnson stuttered. “I guess you can use it, I just have to enforce rules for my boys.”

'My boys'. That was what Elder McKinley had called District Nine. He still did all these years later. 'My boys'.

“I'll just go and get it.”

  


***

  


Connor had wandered off after about half an hour of crying on Arnold's shoulder, murmuring something about wanting to be left alone. He found himself circling the corridors, but always coming back to stand in front of Steve's.

It hadn't been long enough when he stopped in front of it for the final time and knocked. He didn't wait for a reply, but entered with as much confidence as he could muster.

“You killed my husband.” He tried to hide the shake in his voice as best he could, fists clenched.

“Prove it.”

Steve was lying on the bed, his jacket slung over a chair, a scotch in one hand. He was flipping over the pages of a magazine, long elegant fingers caressing the gloss. It was a strange way to read a magazine, but then Connor caught sight of the contents.

“Christ Steve!”

No reply.

“There are kids on this boat. What if...? What if one of them found that? This is hardly the time or place and, are those women?”

“Ever seen a naked woman before Connor?”

“B-but, you're-”

“Gay? I know you like to put in for the 'gayer than thou award', but trust me Connor, I win every year.” He smiled and casually flipped a page, amused by Connor's indignation.

“Then why-?”

“It's not mine.”

Connor glanced at the floor, his embarrassment visible in the red flush in his cheeks.

“I don't understand.”

“You never do, you're awfully stupid sometimes, but you know what?”

“What?”

“You are very pretty.”

Steve swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, moving towards Connor who didn't flinch or move back. He cupped his hand under Connor's cheek, much less aggressive than before.

Connor didn't close his eyes during the kiss. He wanted to see Steve's face. He needed to study it and make an attempt at reading his mind when those lips were pressed to his own. His eyelids were so soft, his brow gentle and furrowed, you'd never believe the cruelty that lay behind them. But, Steve had been so kind to him. Protected him when no one else would, talked to him when he was alone, kissed him when no one else was there.

His eyes slid closed and he found himself kissing back. He wasn't a tease, but he also wasn't one to put out. He remembered their first kiss. It was a bit like this really. Dangerous, but soft, oh so soft. They broke apart and Steve was smiling. Not for himself, but at Connor.

“That's more like it.”

“It doesn't mean anything,” Connor said weakly, but he was only lying to himself. This was some kind of peverse rebound and it sickened him. “I still don't owe you anything.”

Steve's hands were on Connor's hips now, liberally feeling, and Connor didn't stop them. He leant into it, his own hips now pressed gently into Steve's curve. They fit together so well, they always had. This space was familiar, it was a space where he belonged.

“Nothing. It means....”

Steve cut him off with another kiss. Faster now, still just as hot. He pulled Connor by the hips towards the bed, holding him firmly as they landed on the soft pillows.

“This is madness,” Connor murmured.

“My kind of style.”

  


***

  


“Want one?” Steve was holding out a cigarette. Connor shook his head.

“You shouldn't smoke in here.”

“And you should never sleep with your ex. Basic rule. I guess we're both sinners.” He lit the end of the cigarette in one go and took a deep drag. “God, I missed that.”

“Me too.”

“I was talking about the smoke darling, haven't had one since I stepped on this boat, but I suppose the sex was good too.”

Connor pulled the covers over him in disgust. It wasn't at Steve this time, it was at himself. What had he been thinking? Well, he hadn't, and that was just the point. He hadn't been thinking at all when he'd let Steve...but it had felt so good.

He suddenly became very aware of the wedding band round his finger. The metal was burning into his skin, the fibres of it screaming 'adulteror' at him. He twisted it off and laid it on Steve's bed side table.

This scene was so familiar. An argument, sex, a post-sex cigarette, next came the-...yes, here it was. Steve climbing in next to him, wrapping an arm round his waist and drawing him in.

“I love you.”

Lovers said that to each other. Not enemies, not exes, not whatever they were. Connor stared at the opposite wall. It was funny really, being an ex-Mormon, that whole polygamy thing. It would have come in handy in this situation. Except that Kevin and Steve were both jealous types, and gay polygamy probably wouldn't be allowed. A man could dream.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Do you love me?”

“No, I love Kevin.”

“You'd got a funny way of showing it.”

Steve stubbed out his cigarette and brought his hand up to Connor's hair, he began running his hands through it. Connor closed his eyes. His breathing had slowed right down and he just let everything about the situation wash over him. Steve's warm hands on his body, curled up protectively, the ruffling of his hair. They could've been a married couple. Steve wondered what life would be like without Uganda. Would he have ended up with Steve? Or would he just have met someone else?

There was no denying Steve was toxic, but at least he'd always care for him. That was something most couples could only wish for.

“I still love you. You say you don't love me, you say that, but I still love you. I loved you all the way through the wedding, that's how much I love you.”

“Kevin...oh my God. Kevin!”

Connor was pushing Steve's hands away and scrambling out of the bed. It took mere seconds to pull his clothes on.

“Really? Steve was following him at a much lazier pace. You've been thinking about him all this time, and suddenly it clicks that you should probably do something about him now? Just as it was getting nice.”

“It's never nice with you Steve,” Connor threw over his shoulder.

“Oh come on, you know that's not true.”

“You. Stay here.”

Connor was out into the corridor, slamming the door behind him before Steve could get after him. He was running to the stairs leading up to the deck when he collided with Arnold.

“Connor! Good! Come with me!”

Connor didn't even question him, just followed behind as they climbed the stairs. Arnold led him to a small room near the front of the boat. Connor only had to see the words 'Radio Room' printed on the door to know what had happened.

“He's still alive,” He whispered. “Ha! He's still alive!”

Nabulungi was there. Smiling so brightly. He could kiss her too. And Arnold, grinning so widely. He'd run all that way to find Connor. Nabulungi held out a receiver.

“It's for you.” She couldn't help laughing. Arnold slipped a hand round her waist, his whole body visibly relaxing.

“Kevin?”

There was a pause, white noise, crackling loud against his ear.

“Connor?”

“Kevin, oh thank God. Thank fucking God.”

Connor never swore. Ever. He'd sworn once by accident in seventh grade, asking his father what a word meant, he'd tasted the soap on his tongue for a week. He'd sworn during the first time he'd had sex. And he'd sworn at Steve twice. Both times he'd cried. And he'd just sworn now. So that made five times in his life that he'd sworn. This must be important then.

“I thought you were dead!”

“So did I. I love you. I just want to get that out. Just in case...I don't know, this radio gets cut off and I get eaten by cannibals or the ship sinks before I get there, or, I don't know, I just need to say it. Just in case.”

“I love you too.”

Connor sent a silent prayer upwards that those words came so easily when he spoke to Kevin. It gave him some of the reassurance he needed.

“You'll never guess who rescued me.”

“Who?”

“Mormons!”

“No way!”

They were both laughing. Almost gleefully. It was as if nothing from the past few hours had even happened. This was his husband and he was so very alive and so was he. Thoughts of Steve being arrested for attempted murder were flung through his mind. Maybe he could convince Kevin not to press charges. Not likely.

“They almost wouldn't let me use the radio. Against the rules.”

“Number sixty-nine!”

They both shrieked with laughter at that. It was true. Missionaries may only have use of the radio on preparation day, number sixty-nine, the best rule honestly. One they'd broken practically every day.

“They're sending the coast guard now to pick me up, I'll be there in about an hour. I love you. I love you. I love you Connor McKinley. I love you Connor McKinley-Price.”  
“Me too.”

“Narcissistic jerk.”

“Oh please.”

It seemed so natural. This strange conversation. 'Oh hello darling husband I just fell off a boat, be home in time for dinner'.

After a few more minutes, he finally let himself put the radio down. Kevin had to get back to them without being tethered to it.

  


***

  


“I can't thank you enough boys.”

The missionaries were all beaming at each other. They clearly all thought this encounter had scored them some serious God points.

They'd had rather a long discussion about old times while Elder Johnson tried to fix the radio. He'd asked for coffee without thinking, but Elder Moore had helpfully warmed up some milk as a consolation prize. He sipped it without really thinking, tales of Uganda spilling out with relish.

The coast guard was due to arrive in under ten minutes and Kevin was more than ready to leave this strange time capsule. Fate was an unusual thing indeed.

He looked down at himself, his tux was hanging in ruined wet rags, which was shame seeing as it was rented.

“I don't suppose you have a change of clothes?”

“Plenty.”

It wasn't quite what Kevin was expecting when he was confronted with the store room full of regulation missionary uniforms. He selected his size and pulled them on, staring at himself in the mirror, his hand over the empty space on his chest where a name tag should be.

“Uncanny valley,” He muttured.

“Nostalgia?” Elder Johnson probed.

“Something like that.”

Maybe Elder McKinley-...he meant Connor, he'd been here too long already, maybe Connor would like it. He smiled at himself. He had no business wearing this at thirty. Still, the pants looked good.

  


***

“Kevin's alive.”  
“Pity.”  
“I know you didn't really mean to kill him Steve, I know you were drunk, and angry.”

“I meant to kill him,” Steve said steadily.

Connor stared and Steve looked up into those innocent eyes. They always looked like that. So blue, so naive, even when they were doing acts that even the Pope's own Holy Water couldn't clean.

“I'm joking.”

“Not funny.”

Steve's expression didn't change. So pushing Kevin off a boat had been a bad idea. It hadn't managed to get Connor to love him again. A quick shag wouldn't last him forever. It wasn't that he didn't like Kevin, he didn't like him either but that was besides the point, it's just that he was in the way. Connor could have fallen in love with anyone and he'd still have tried something. It just happened to be Kevin.

“It was an accident.”

Connor raised an eyebrow.

“Honest, swear on my drink.”

“I don't trust you.”

“Tell me something I don't know.”

Connor sighed and sat back down on the bed. He allowed Steve to pull him closer by the waist, but the touch didn't feel as warm as it had earlier.

“It never would have worked Steve, not with a friend.”

“I think it could, but it's your choice. I respect that.”

“No you don't,” He scoffed. “You don't respect me.”

“I let you top once.”

“Wow.”

There was silence. The sound of cheers from above broke it, and Connor knew, Kevin was back. Steve let him go and gestured to the door.

“You'd better go, your husband is waiting.”

Connor looked at him calculatedly, but he couldn't see anything else in his eyes, just his friend.

“Thanks Steve.” He kissed him gently on the cheek, then left to go to the deck.

Steve watched him go then downed the rest of drink and lit another cigarette. He finished it quickly then lit another. Massaging his temples he contemplated his options. Connor had made his choice and it wasn't him, there was nothing he could do about that now. Connor wasn't going to change his mind. No. It was a different choice Connor was going to have to make now.

He pulled open a draw and rummaged inside for a slim leather case with a numbered lock. It clicked open and he pulled out the gun inside. Only for special occasions. Well, it was a special occasion. Connor had always jokingly said Steve looked like James Bond, usually while giggling. Connor didn't know the half of it.

He clicked back the barrel and slid two bullets inside. Steve was never one to shirk on style, they weren't standard regulation, they were carved silver and very beautiful. Steve knew very few people who could appreciate the beauty of a well crafted bullet.

  


***

  


Connor flung his arms round Kevin in the tightest embrace as soon as two feet were planted on deck. He was saying 'I love you' over and over again right into his neck, squeezing deathly tight, determined never to let him go.

When he pulled back both their faces were stained wet with tears, but they were smiling, bright beautiful smiles.

Connor took all of Kevin in, glancing up and down his form.

“What are you wearing?”

“It was all they had, the Mormons. The ones who rescued me,” Kevin explained. “Very nice people really. Very strange. Just like us.”

“Probably not if they let you use the radio on a non-regulation day.”

It was all so absurd, and yet, so easy to laugh at. They were aware of people around them, watching their every move. Nabulungi and Arnold were crying too, and there was a general chatter of grateful excitement.

Connor pulled Kevin into a kiss, and it tasted just right.

The world came to a pleasant silence around them, he could no longer hear the wedding guests, no noise, just lovely silence filled only with Kevin. The silence continued. And continued. And then Connor realised that it wasn't a construct of his happiness, but reality.

He broke the kiss and stared over Kevin's shoulder.

“What is it?”

It wasn't the first time Connor had found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Not that any of those times had made him used to it. Connor shook his head in disbelief. If the gun was aimed at Kevin's back it would have made sense, but it was pointing straight at him.

Kevin turned and as soon as he saw Steve his face curled into a snarl and his fists clenched.

“You.”

“Me,” Steve said simply.

Kevin moved to stand in front of Connor, protecting him easily with his much taller body.

“Don't do anything stupid Steve,” Connor said, a hand curled up in Kevin's.

“I think I already have. I fell in love. A very stupid move.”

“What is this about Blade?” Kevin asked cooly, also not a stranger to staring down a gunman.

“I'm here to give Connor a choice. I did before, and he chose you, he doesn't play the game very well.”

“What choice?”

“There are two bullets in this gun. Can you count Price?”

Kevin snarled at him.

“I said, can you count?”

“Yes,” Kevin said through gritted teeth. “I can count.”

“Then you'll notice that there are three of us. Two bullets. Three brains. Who stays in tact and who gets splattered on this lovely floor? Connor's choice.”

“You're sick.”

“No, not sick. Just a very sore loser.” Steve smiled. Connor laid a hand on Kevin's waist and gently manoeuvred him out the way so he could face Steve.

The strength in Steve's eyes faltered when he saw Connor looking at him. Connor noticed something very tired there, something very sad.

“You want me to choose who gets to live? Who gets left behind?”

“Yes.” His voice wavered, but the shake was lost on the gentle sea breeze.

“Then I've made a choice.”

The gun moved a millimetre downwards as Steve faltered at these words.

“I choose you. I choose you Steve Blade.”

He felt Kevin move behind him, and he heard the faint gasps of a few from the crowd.

“I choose you to live. Because if you are going to fire two bullets, and I know you Steve, I know you won't miss, then I want you to fire them at me and Kevin. I don't want to live in a world without him. I made my choice a long time ago, I chose to be by his side, I chose to love him, and last night I chose to bind myself to him forever. That's my choice Steve. I choose Kevin, and in doing so, I choose you.”

Connor bit his lip. He'd tried.

Steve raised the gun, laid his index finger on the trigger.

“You sure?”

“Yep.” Connor bit his lip, the tears coming thick and fast as he stared into the black hole where the bullet would come from. “Just do it fast.”

He heard the click of the safety. How ironic for Steve to keep the safety on. Not that it mattered now. His fingers found Kevin's and he laced them together, closing his eyes tight. It wasn't so bad really. Getting shot by your best friend. Not so bad...

“We had some good times though.”

Connor's eyes opened. He'd never seen Steve cry. He was barely seeing it now, but a single tear had escaped and was running down his cheek.

“Yeah,” Connor agreed. “We had some good times.”

“Once more round the block.”

Connor nodded and closed his eyes again as Steve braced the gun.

The shot sliced through the cold air and echoed across the deck. Connor never heard the second shot, he only felt his knees buckle beneath him until he was unconcious and lying in Kevin's arms.

***

  


“Crime of Passion.” He'd heard someone say. Someone important with a uniform and latex gloves and a notebook. Passion was one word for it. Steve was most definitely...passionate.

Steve had spent several years in Russia, all in the line of work of course, and he knew how to make a clean kill. He liked chaos, not mess. Ever vain and arrogant he could never take a bullet through the head, his face was far too precious for that. And it fit with the passion them the authorities were going with that he'd aimed for the heart instead. It wasn't like Steve to miss, and Connor knew he hadn't really. Steve could never kill him. Steve could never kill anyone. Unless they deserved it or he was paid to of course. Neither of those things applied to Connor.

No. When Steve had pulled the trigger, he had fully meant for the bullet to pass through his own chest. When they'd examined the gun they'd found he hadn't been lying about the two bullets, but there was no knowing why. Symbolism maybe. Steve was all about that.

It was a strange experience fainting. When Connor woke up, the first thing he saw was Kevin's face, and Heaven was a though that crossed his mind. Kevin smiled, a smile that creased the corners of his eyes.

“This will be a story to tell the grandkids.”

“Yeah. Wait, no, we'll leave this one out.”

“I guess you're right. We'll tell them our Bahamas boat wedding was perfect and went off without a hitch.”

Connor laughed softly and was about to drift off back into his pleasant sleep when his eyes snapped open again.

“Steve...”

“He shot himself.”

Kevin's face was blank, there was no reading it. And that tone was unplaceable.

“Oh...”  
“He's still alive.”

“Oh?”

So he had missed. That wasn't like Steve. That wasn't like Steve at all. Clean, neat, no mess, he knew exactly where the human heart was on the body. Even a single hair's breadth out of place was not like Steve. Unless...

He sighed. Steve and his damn symbolism. Next time he saw him he'd make sure to tell him exactly what he thought of his very desperate and very Grecian act of unrequited love. Connor began to hum under his breath.

“Are you humming?”  
Connor nodded, a serene look overcoming his face. He felt a little giddy, probably some pain meds or something. Maybe that's why he felt so calm and so light.

“Why?”

Connor shrugged and kept humming. The whole day had been surreal. He wondered how honest he could be with Kevin. Not very, was the answer. There were some things he didn't have to know, some things were too painful. He'd tuck them away in a dark corner of his mind and only let them out of his occasional visits to Steve in prison. He assumed that was where he was going, though who could press charges against someone for trying to kill themselves.

“Can you stop humming? It's weirding me out.”  
Connor started humming louder, defiantly.

“Please.”

“Fine, I'll sing instead.”

Kevin rolled his eyes, but Connor was true to his word.

“'An angel's smile is what you sell, you promise me heaven then put me through hell.'”

“That's a bit grim.”

Connor laughed. “It's Bon Jovi Kevin, come on. 'Chains of love got a hold of me, when passion's a prison you can't break free.'”

“Yeah, not really my style. Hey, Connor, remember when I fell of f a boat today? Does that give me a free pass to tell you to shut up?”

Connor shook his head.

“'Oh oh you're a loaded gun, oh oh there's no where to run,'” Connor crooned, waves of exhaustion pulling him under, the words coming out softly now. “'No one can save me the damage is done.'”

Kevin ran a hand over Connor's forehead then down his arm and let his fingers tangle in Connor's own. This would be a hard one to recover from. He was glad that the bullet hadn't killed Steve. He wouldn't wish death on anyone, and the news would break Connor. Still, everything had become incredibly difficult. Not quite broken, but definitely cracked, and it would take a delicate balancing act to fix everything.

“Oh Connor,” Kevin murmured, gazing down at his husband. He gripped his hand tighter, Connor's smooth fingers growing loose. He stroked them gently before bring the hand to his lips to kiss it. He paused. Connor's wedding ring was missing.

“'Shot through the heart and you're to blame. You give love a bad name.'”

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact of the day: The Elders of Barbados third ward are named after some of the Elders I knew during my time in the LDS church.


End file.
